


Let Me Lay You Down Sweetly

by Kat_Dakuu



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: First Time Making Love, Future Reiner/Bertolt/Jean?, Getting spoiled in bed, M/M, Mentioned bad sex, Open Relationships, Training Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Dakuu/pseuds/Kat_Dakuu
Summary: Jean thought that maybe he went wrong somewhere. After his first time, he decided that sex wasn't worth it. It was a strange conviction to come to, but hey, he was a realist. When the act didn't match up to expectation, he just laughed along. He thought his friends would agree, but he found himself sat down by Bertolt of all people and given a stern talking to about expectation and self-respect, and more importantly, a promise for more..?





	Let Me Lay You Down Sweetly

Jean woke up in an empty bed somewhere he didn't recognize. With sheets less starched than usual and a pillow tossed to the side, he lay like a discarded thing on top, his body aching despite the numbness of the cool air. For a long second, he wondered how he came to be in this position. But that was a lie—he knew exactly how he came to this moment, exactly how he came to lay on a semi-stranger's bed, naked. He could even guess how he came to be alone.

Sitting up, he winced at how his body protested. It couldn't have been long since they finished having sex; the sheets still felt warm and slightly damp against his skin. And besides, Jean didn't feel like he slept so much as passed out for a few minutes, then woke up, pained and disoriented. The guy he'd given himself to for his first time must not have cared because he already left the guest room of the estate they'd been partying at. Somehow, Jean didn't feel surprised.

He didn't plan for his first time to go like this though. He _did_ make a plan. No getting drunk and saying, _'what the hell,'_ with the first guy who looked at him twice. No, he courted a particular target, one of the older soldiers who always eyed him back. A nice guy, somewhat older brother-like, with a name to match—Michael. Best of all, he wasn't someone Jean interacted with on a daily basis, so he didn't think complications would arise if he misinterpreted the signals and propositioned a straight guy. Still, he'd trusted Michael to treat him well, experience and warm forest-colored eyes and all.

Somehow, Jean came up sorely disappointed. That was it though, just a grey feeling of disappointment. He never really expected fireworks—except he kind of did. Jean just suspected that he overestimated the quality of sex. Porn books made it look better, hyped up his expectations too much. Now he found himself thinking that the real world didn't work like that at all. But he didn't mind. Jean had dealt with subverted expectations his whole life.

Not sure what else to do, he forced himself up to start the arduous task of finding his clothes and redressing, which the soreness in his ass only made more arduous. When he tightened the last of his straps, Jean gave the room a single look over his shoulder before he also fled. Perhaps this whole sex ordeal subverted his expectations, but that didn't mean he planned to wallow over it like a girl. Life would go on and he'd probably end up doing this again because what was a guy to do? Even if somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered how anyone could rave about such a thing as sex.

xXx

The next morning, Jean woke up in his usual bunk to harsh sunlight and the scrambling of multiple boys getting ready. He didn't feel much desire to join that rush, but he didn't have a choice either. So, with a rather put-out scowl, he threw himself down the bunk's ladder and into his day of training.

All throughout it, the sunlight felt too bright and the orders hard to keep up with. Which was strange, considering Jean excelled in battle games that involved his maneuvering gear. His body just felt off though, like he could still remember the events of last night inside his muscles themselves. And Jean wasn't quite sure what he should think about that. By the time they broke for lunch, Jean felt ready to collapse on the hard wooden benches like they were padded pews from the king's chapel itself.

"Jean, you okay there?" Marco asked with a raised eyebrow. Jean supposed he hadn't been hiding his sour mood all that well since the second he looked up from his food, he realized that everyone in his usual group of friends stared at him. Flushing, he dropped his gaze, even though he felt warmed by their concern. He just didn't want to receive it because he went and tried out sex for the first time last night. They would never let him live it down. They'd laugh. They'd all fucking laugh and call him an idiot for getting twisted up in knots over something so…well, braggable as sex.

"Yeah. Just didn't sleep well s'all…" he muttered under his breath. Jean couldn't tell if Marco bought his lie, but the freckled boy didn't call him out on it. He just pursed his lips as Jean waved his fork over his plate in some kind of nameless gesture. "Why are you all staring at me anyway? We all know Eren partied way harder than me last night and no one's making fun of his hangover!" Jean sent a dirty look to the end of their table where the green-eyed devil sat with Armin and Mikasa, all leaned together and whispering. Though, that might have been because Eren didn't look like he could stand the loudness of the mess hall, his head halfway pillowed in his arms. Jean had been right about that at least.

Connie rolled his eyes. "That's because Mikasa won't let us tease him. Seriously, do you see the way she's glaring at us just for talking at normal inside voices?" he scoffed, sounding more than incredulous as he glared down at the end of the table. Jean wasn't sure he could classify Connie's voice as 'inside volume' though considering it made even his head hurt and he only drank one mug of beer last night. He had, after all, other plans for celebrating their recent victory in mind.

"Whatever. I'll be fine tomorrow. Sorry if I fucked up your plans to rely on me for the training games while you guys slacked!" he huffed back, crossing his arms over his chest. He raised one eyebrow in challenge, just daring them to state their concern welled up from something besides personal gain.

Connie threw a hand over his chest in a look of mock horror while Reiner outright guffawed with laughter, his whole body shaking from the force of it. No fucking shame at all. Marco shook his head, eyes still that warm brown that made Jean melt most days. He, probably, did look concerned about Jean because of actual concern. Reiner's heavy hand dropped down on his shoulder though so Jean needed to duck away, trying very hard to hide the wince that wanted to hiss out from between his teeth. "Fuck, Jean! You really know us too well! Damn, to get found out so quickly," Reiner continued to laugh until the whole table joined in. Jean even forced out a few chuckles of his own. It was easy when the atmosphere suddenly felt lighter than the air.

"You guys are terrible," Marco murmured as he sent Jean a look of sympathy. They all moved on though, concern turning into tales of their own wild nights. Jean felt thankful and zoned out as he returned to his meal, not even caring when Sasha swiped a few bites off of his plate. His stomach felt all churned up, so the porridge slop didn't sit well in him anyway. He refused to stop eating because of something like this though, knowing he would regret it later if he did. Both because he would end up hungry and because he would feel pathetic.

Still, he pushed the remains of his plate toward Sasha at the very end. "Hey, I'm going to head back to the bunks for a while," he butt into the conversation, earning a couple of surprised looks from his friends. "I want to take a nap before my chores. Can you tell Eren not to bother my ass." He made a pointed look at the other boy despite the fact that Eren looked like the least likely person to bother him, still nursing his own post-party look. In fact, Eren looked like he wanted to join Jean for that nap when their eyes briefly met. They both looked away though with matching huffs, too attached to their usual routine to say anything different. It made them both feel more normal when they looked off as hell.

When Jean stood, he felt his back crick so that he lurched to the side, nearly stumbling into his seated friends. Most of them just raised eyebrows and muttered their affirmative that he needed that nap. Marco looked like he wanted to turn all motherly, but thought better of it. However, when Jean rubbed his lower back as discretely as possible, pretty sure that everyone had turned away at that point, he caught Bertolt staring at him. Something like surprise flashed in his eyes before something else dawned, something knowing and concerned and so much deeper that Jean had to look away because he didn't know what it meant.

He quickly dropped his hand and hurried away. What did Bertolt see in that half-second look? He couldn't know. No one could know what he did last night. And it wasn't even that Jean didn't want them to know, especially Bertolt or Marco. He knew his friends wouldn't judge and Marco already knew his preferences. Bertolt started dating Reiner months ago. Jean knew the officers didn't even guess it, but everyone in the barracks knew. Seriously, how could they _not_? The two guys weren't exactly subtle.

Jean shook away the thought as he made his way back to the barracks. At midday, he found them empty and was able to climb up to his bunk without any fuss. The older soldiers would no doubt laugh at how he behaved, so for one brief second, he found himself thinking about Michael. That was…a mess. He didn't want to think about how things turned so bland at the end so he threw his covers over his head and laid back. The starch of his sheets felt familiar, the lump in his pillow the exact shape of his head. Wasn't this much better? Jean just started to relax when the barrack door slid open again, creaking in the heavy, still air.

"…Jean?"

Breath caught in his throat, Jean shuffled as subtly as possible so he could lean over the bunk's edge to see who slipped inside. Dust motes drifted in the sunbeams while shadows stretched across the room, the bunks blocking much of his view and shadowing the room despite the midday hour. Jean could make out the figure's height against the doorway, their body motionless besides the slow swivel of their head. After a long second, the swiveling stopped as their gazes met, revealing a familiar pair of eyes. Jean could only stare back stupidly. How did Bertolt even know where to look in this dusky haze?

They stared, so frozen that Jean thought it would take a third party to startle them into action. However, Bertolt stepped forward as if he never paused, though he never quite broke his gaze. Only when he pulled himself up the ladder did Jean jump into motion, wincing when his back popped and he had to sit funny, keeping his weight on his legs instead of his bottom.

"Um…did you want something?" The sheets felt too coarse under his fingers as he played with the hem, pulling threads, then breaking them. Levi would no doubt scold him if he knew, but Jean couldn't keep his hands still right now. Bertolt continued to stare at him, his expression twisting the same way it had in the mess hall, as if puzzling together a full picture and then wondering why it formed a shape like it did. As if Jean fit together differently than he anticipated. He licked his lips, both arms crossed over Jean's mattress as he sounded out the words he came there to say.

"Jean…" Bertolt licked his lips again, eyes darting over Jean's body. He never quite returned his gaze to Jean's though, instead keeping his eyes on the sheets when he spoke. Which was probably for the best considering Jean found himself forgetting to breathe. "…Could it be that you had sex? Er, with a man?"

"W-what?!" God, he really couldn't breathe. Jean clenched a hand over his chest, twisting the shirt fabric until he feared it would never lay flat again. How could Bertolt fucking know that? It wasn't even that Jean wanted to keep it a secret. He let people know that he swung that way, but he never let himself get caught doing anything either. Or was that because until now, he hadn't done anything? Jean stared at Bertolt in a daze, not sure of that answer himself. "How the fuck could you possibly know that? Is it that obvious?!" he finally managed to hiss back, his hand still clenched protectively over this heart.

At least Bertolt had the good sense to look guilty. He hung himself from the ladder's steps another second before making a pathetic gesture at the bed. "Um, can I sit with you. You might not want to raise your voice so much either…" the taller boy managed. When Jean rolled his eyes but patted the bed next to him, Bertolt swung his legs up, settling cross-legged across from him. "You're not obvious. It's just…I remember what it was like the first time after…with Reiner…"

Jean watched the other boy swallow, his eyes still not quite meeting his own. Right. Bertolt also knew what it felt like to take another man's dick up his ass. Really, Jean should have expected him to notice, even if no one else considered it. Because as much as Jean thought he managed to look half-way okay, he knew he moved his body differently. Eyes lowered, he let go of the sheet so he could stare at the damage instead. "Oh. Right." Something like a laugh bubbled through him. "Of course the resident gay would fucking zero in on my wonderful first-time experience. I don't know how you and Reiner can do that all the time. Gay sex fucking sucks!"

A rather strangled noise cut through the air and Jean wasn't sure if he or Bertolt made it. Maybe they both did or maybe it didn't matter. Feeling anxious, he lifted his gaze with laughter still heavy against his tongue. He expected to see the same exasperated amusement on the other boy's face, but when their eyes met again, Bertolt stared at him with the deepest, most concerned look that it left Jean choking on his own breath. Bertolt looked at him like his joke didn't even register. He looked hurt.

"I'm sorry." Bertolt dropped his hands onto Jean's shoulders, still staring right into him with that fucking _look_. Jean shifted, trying to scoot away from Bertolt's grip, but the bed didn't offer enough room and he reached the wall before he could shimmy out from under the other boy's long arms. If he looked as bewildered as he felt though, it didn't stop Bertolt from continuing. "Jean, it shouldn't be like that at all. Why are you looking like it's okay? I just thought maybe you felt a bit uncomfortable because I couldn't quite walk right the morning after either, but why are you making a face like that after your first time? It was your first?!"

Jean had no idea what kind of face he made now. He had no idea why Bertolt wore that kind of look on his face either. It wasn't fair right? Wasn't he misinterpreting the situation? "H-hey now. Aren't you overreacting? It's not like I'm particularly hurt. Isn't it supposed to be like this?" He blinked his eyes again, trying to show Bertolt just how confused he felt. Doubts began to form in his mind though, spurred by Bertolt's concerned gaze and that niggling suspicion that clung to his mind from the start—that he'd been used.

Bertolt slipped his hands down to rub over Jean's shoulders and upper arms, his large hands warm against the stiff fabric there. "Of course not. It's a little painful the first time, but it still feels really good. Who were you with? I saw you at the party with this guy…er, was it him? I wasn't going to make any assumptions, but since I know you're into guys now…" Despite the awkwardness of his words, Bertolt continued to smooth his hands along Jean's arms in a way that made him feel small and a lot more broken than he actually was.

"Yeah, that's the one. I've been flirting with him for a while so I figured it was time to step it up," Jean muttered. Maybe it was just Bertolt's size that made him feel small right now. He'd grown so used to the other boy trying to shrink in on himself that Jean often forgot their height difference. Funny that it came out so clearly now, while sitting.

"He's not your boyfriend?" Bertolt echoed.

One deep breath in. Jean held it for a second before letting the air whoosh out of his lungs. Might as well tell the truth. "Doubt it. Not sure what I aimed for since I just so badly wanted to find someone to give my first time to. Passed out for a bit and he was gone though, so yeah, kinda doubt he wanted to be my boyfriend." Jean didn't even feel offended considering how the others sometimes responded to gays and the way soldiers dropped like flies. Dating one second, married, then widowed the next. Michael knew he could end up outside the wall. Why expect Jean to stick around even if he wanted to?

"Are you…seriously? That's just the worst! I hate people like that! I would have been devastated if I was ditched after my first time and by someone older and responsible too! How are you not bothered by this, Jean? You _should_ be!" The hiss of Bertolt's voice was accented by a sharp squeeze of his hands. Jean gasped, wondering if bruises might form there if he didn't remove Bertolt soon. He couldn't quite lift his arms though, only managing to squeeze his own hands over top the other boy's, too surprised for words. He didn't think he ever heard Bertolt raise his voice and here he was giving a whole speech with such venom that Jean almost recoiled.

"U-um…Bertolt? I don't get it. I really don't…" Jean shook his head before meeting Bertolt's gaze with a pleading one. He certainly wanted to understand, because it must feel nice to be an adult experienced in all this sex stuff. "Maybe you had a different sort of time than I did, but I think I'm just spoiled or something. Being like that is unreasonable right? You make it sound like I _should_ act like a spoiled prince instead of being realistic. I'm just going with the flow."

Bertolt shook his head. "…I would have spoiled you." His whisper ghosted through the empty room, so loud despite the scant volume. "For that matter, why didn't you come to me or Reiner? You didn't need to search out a stranger for something like that. I don't like seeing this look on your face like you're settling. You shouldn't just settle for bad sex, Jean. If you really think that's how it's always going to be, then you'll always end up hurt. Don't you know that it could be so much better?"

Blankly, Jean just shook his head. He supposed that somewhere along the line, he fucked up real bad, but he didn't think he could have done anything different either. Squinting at Bertolt's hands and then his face, he tried to process everything the other boy just told him. Not just with his words, but with those eyes too. Pretty, warm, concerned eyes. Like Marco's, but more heated than that guy's older brother look. Realization dawned even as Jean tried to deny it.

"But you and Reiner are in a relationship. How could I come to you? Even I know better than that." He wasn't sure why Bertolt didn't seem to think so. The other boy just shook his head though, something akin to a smile gracing his lips.

"We don't have a strict relationship like that. And he wouldn't judge me for trying to look after you." Bertolt chuckled, soft and low, like Jean really did suggest something absurd. However, his gaze sharpened a second later, tone devoid of any humor. "Won't you let me show you how good being on the receiving end can be? Please, Jean? I really want to teach you this! Maybe it's wrong and selfish of me, but I can't leave this alone as someone who knows how good sex is! Please?"

His brow furrowed, Jean tried really hard to puzzle out a response to that. Bertolt wanted to…with him? There was no way he heard that right. "Bert…I. Are you s-serious? With me? _Me?"_

The other boy, as anxious as he looked, met Jean's gaze with absolute conviction. "Is that so absurd?"

Jean wasn't sure if the thought of Bertolt wanting to have sex with him sounded ludicrous or not, or if it was just the whole situation behind it. He just, he never considered that the only two openly gay people he knew were an option. Because of that, he never thought if he might _like_ to be with them. Well, this was Bertolt he talked about. The guy may have acted like a nervous wreck half the time, but he was built like a fucking tree. How could Jean not be interested?

"Maybe it is," he breathed out, once again far too honest for his own good. "But I guess…I really do want you to prove me wrong. If that's even possible."

Bertolt's eyes brightened the second Jean said those words. "Oh thank god!" Before he could react, the taller boy pulled him into a fierce hug, all of his long limbs wrapped around, holding onto Jean tight. With his nose crushed into Bertolt's chest, he couldn't help but breathe in deep, appreciating a scent that also seemed to resemble a tree, like juniper though, rather than the usual musty forest scent. Jean liked it. It reminded him of how at home he felt high up in the branches, like a god.

When Bertolt's grip shifted lower though, he went rigid in the other boy's arms. Whether Bertolt meant to hint anything by it, Jean went and thought those thoughts by himself anyway. And hell if he was ready to do any of that again, even if Bertolt said he could make it worthwhile. "U-um, but not now! Ah seriously! My body feels like shit and I don't know if I can manage to do that again any time soon. Bert?" He pulled away enough to blink eyes at the other boy like he didn't feel as desperate and nervous as he really did. God. Could he get any more out of character?

An easy smile just spread across Bertolt's lips though. If he noticed Jean acting like some scandalized girl, then he didn't say anything, didn't laugh. Hands clenched around Jean's waist, he gave another squeeze before letting him go so he could scoot back toward the bunk's ladder. "Oh, of course. That's fine! I don't mean to pressure you or anything. When you're ready, just let me know. We need somewhere….er…private anyway…"

His face flushed, Bertolt turned away like he wanted to force back his own nervous laughter. God, Jean knew the feeling well at this point. His whole body wanted to break down, crying and laughing, to think he got himself into this situation. But a warmth had settled in as well, something that very much looked forward to what he and Bertolt might do in the near future.

"Got it. So yeah, I'll let you know? Sometime soon…" Swallowing, Jean looked away as well, knowing his own face burned a furious red. Still, he caught the way Bertolt nodded before swinging a leg over the ladder once more.

"Yep. And I'll be waiting." With that, Bertolt disappeared down the ladder and out of the barracks once again, leaving Jean to the nap he felt a lot less like taking now. Too many thoughts swirled in his mind, but by the time other trainees started to filter in on their way to and fro chores, he found his thoughts full of excitement. He anticipated this, wanted it more than he'd ever wanted to be with Michael. Silently, he wished his body a quick recovery, then swung himself down to the floor, ready to rush through his own chores as if that might bring the next chance quicker, and maybe a little more of the warmth Bertolt seemed to so freely offer.

xXx

One week later, they found their chance. Reiner spent the morning cleaning out a storage shed, but rather than return the key, he passed it on to Bertolt with a knowing look. It made Jean wonder how much the blonde-haired boy heard, though he didn't dare ask. Instead, he met Bertolt's gaze barely a minute into their meeting that had been very lacking in normal greetings so far and asked the most adjacent question he could think of.

"Are you sure about this?" Jean mumbled the question into the cloth of his jacket as he peeled it off, using it to hide the awkward tremor in his fingers. He didn't think Bertolt noticed, but the other boy still narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Of course." He touched Jean's cheek, not quite in a caress, but just as warm and so gentle that his fingers barely registered against Jean's skin. The breath caught in his lungs, his eyes meeting Bertolt's in an open stare. "Are you? If you're having doubts, Jean…"

He shook his head hard enough to send the longer strands of his blonde hair bouncing. "I'm not! I just wanted to make sure this is really okay with you and Reiner. I mean, it's mostly you that's my friend, but I don't want to make a guy like that angry at me either." Jean offered a sheepish smile, because what else could a guy do? Between sex and survival, he certainly knew which one to pick. "But I want this, Bertolt. I really do…" He grasped the other boy's hand where it hesitated over his shirt buttons, stilling those hands for a second before starting to help.

Bertolt smiled reassuringly as he went back to Jean's buttons, together getting the shirt undone without a problem. "I wouldn't do this if it wasn't fine. You shouldn't think too much about it. Actually, don't think at all. Why don't you let me do all the work, kay?" Once he slipped the shirt down to the floor, he rested his hands on Jean's hips, holding him steady when his feet wanted nothing more than to shift from side to side. "Will you let me take care of you?"

Unable to form words, Jean nodded as the other boy stepped him back toward a stack of boxes where sheets had been laid to form a makeshift bed, complete with a pillow. Jean seriously wondered how Bertolt managed to pull this off, or Reiner, or whatever combination of the two planned this. If he hadn't felt spoiled before, he certainly did now, and he didn't know what god he managed to please in order to land such kindness either. It was unfair right? Most people didn't get this in life.

Calves knocking against the boxes, Jean turned so he could plop himself down onto the 'bed', one eyebrow raised in Bertolt's direction. It felt comfortable enough. "You coming?"

Bertolt chuckled as he knelt down, crawling over to where Jean sat. "You're ridiculous. You know that?" After shaking his head, he brushed Jean's cheek, sending shivers down his spine at the soft touch. Fingers still lingering, he bent closer until their breaths mingled together. "Can I kiss you?"

Jean leaned the last of the distance between them, answering the question before either could hesitate. When their lips met, Bertolt's felt chapped against his, like he licked them far too many times before coming here. Nervous? Excited? With his heart thudding inside his chest, Jean knew he felt the same. They moved together at an awkward, slow pace, still feeling each other out until Bertolt cupped his cheek more firmly and tilted his head. Just like that, he coaxed Jean to open his mouth for the kiss so he could lick his tongue inside. Compared to the heated, but to-the-point kisses Jean experienced before now, this felt like the beginnings of art. He thought, vaguely, that he could get used to this.

Bertolt moved to plant kisses along his jaw, then against the pulse in his neck and further down still. Feather touches of lips, the faint wetness that left a tingle behind. Jean couldn't help the breathy noise that escaped him when Bertolt bit down on his collarbone, leaving a clear mark on the otherwise pristine skin there. "Is it good?" The taller boy murmured against the mark he left, like he didn't already know that Jean ached for this. Swallowing hard, he managed to choke out a response.

"Y-yes! Why are you just kissing there though?" Jean lifted his head enough to watch Bertolt lave the space along his collar and shoulders with progressively less sweet kisses, even while his hands smoothed along his sides. The feeling left Jean shifting, trying to get a little more out of those large hands that stayed firmly above his waistband. "Bert…I…I want to make you feel good too, but I don't know what to do."

When Jean reached out to run a hand down Bertolt's stomach, the other boy stopped his motions, grabbing hold of Jean's hand before it could reach his crotch. They both stilled, breathing heavy under the force of their unblinking stares. After a long second, Bertolt turned Jean's hand so he could curl their fingers together. "It's fine if you don't do anything. If you don't know what to do, just follow. Didn't I say I wanted to take care of you?" He pressed another kiss to Jean's lips, lingering even after the kiss ended. Like that, their breaths continued to mingle, synching without effort.

And yet, Jean continued to shift, not quite put at ease by Bertolt's words. When the other boy did brush a hand over his waistband though, he forgot all about it as he arched, pressing himself into Bertolt's hand. "Oh god!"

"You like that?" The ghost of a smile graced Bertolt's lips, mischievous and so quick that Jean wondered if some stranger made that expression instead. He just nodded though, letting his arms lay limp on the sheets, spread out to the box's edge.

"Yes!" Jean swallowed again, trying to force more words out. "Please fuck me already. I'm ready! I swear I'm ready! _Bertolt!_ "

Bertolt silenced him with another kiss and a tsk. "Not yet. It won't feel very good if I just put it in. Haven't you ever heard of foreplay? I'm going to get you nice and ready, okay? Clearly better than that other idiot…" he added under his breath, even as he moved to brush kisses where Jean's hips protruded in sharp angles. Despite the way it muffled his voice and sent sparks up Jean's spine, he still heard the muttered comment like an entirely different sort of spark. Eyes sliding to the side, he offered a small shrug.

"Thought it was optional…"

Another frown painted Bertolt's lips; Jean could feel it where they still pressed against his skin. The other boy didn't say anything though, just continued to rub circles down to Jean's thighs, then back up again so he could undo the straps there and then the belt around his waist. "I suppose it is, but you won't know what to look for if you never experience the best first."

Bertolt said that with such seriousness that Jean couldn't help but laugh, twisting a bit so he could meet the other boy's eyes again. "And you're saying that you're the best? That's…ah! Pretty out of character for you!" He rolled his hips up, meeting the hand that slid into his pants, stroking the hardening length inside. Bertolt shook his head at the cocky grin that Jean tried to put on despite his pink face and desperately shifting hips. All it took was a single touch and he'd reduced Jean to this. Bertolt didn't understand how anyone could pass up on such a delicious reaction.

"Hmm…maybe. Or rather, I've had a lot of time to figure it out and a good teacher," he murmured back, still teasing Jean with feather touches through the fabric of his underwear, then a bolder squeeze when Jean bit his lip to keep back a cry. Oh yes, he was definitely coming undone no matter how in control he tried to look. It was…a nice change compared to Bertolt's usual bedroom activities. He pushed Jean's pants down to his ankles, the other boy happily helping him remove the garment. For a second, Bertolt just admired the view before he tossed his own shirt aside and leaned back down to press a kiss over the wet spot on Jean's underwear.

"Did that other guy touch you here? Maybe with his hand, or his lips?" He ran a finger up the hard line of Jean's length for emphasis while the other boy's thighs spasmed with the effort needed not to clamp them around Bertolt's sides.

"N-not really. Only a little when he started….with his hand," Jean managed. Bertolt made it hard to concentrate on the conversation though, his fingers far too light to actually get him off, but too much to ignore. Blinking his eyes, he stared up at the other boy, just a little lost, when Bertolt slid his underwear down. A bright look had settled in the other boy's eyes, sharp and almost hungry. "Bertolt?"

They met gazes, their breaths stilling in the dank air of the storage room. Not that either of them noticed that now, far too lost in the sugar-heat of their own aroused scents. "Tell me if you want to stop," Bertolt whispered, finally breaking the silence, even when it still felt heavy with their breaths that had picked up once again. "I'm going to push things forward now and I don't think I can slow down unless you ask, okay? Just…don't forget to breathe…"

Jean offered a hollow-feeling nod, words still stuck in his throat. Even if he did want to say something, he would never be able to because even after he gasped in a huge breath, he yelped it out the next second. Without any warning, Bertolt dropped between Jean's knees and ran his tongue up the length of his cock. Jean twisted his hands in the starchy sheets, a cry ripping itself from his throat, somewhere between surprise and pleasure. The sound quickly devolved into a moan though as Bertolt wrapped lips around the head. His eyes looked smug, as if to say he had warned Jean. And he did, but god, he could never expect a feeling like this.

Michael only gave him a few rough tugs until he stood hard and proud, just a little short of breath. His own hand could only do so much either. Bertolt just…he lost his ability to function when the other boy slid his lips down, then slowly, teasingly back up again. Jean felt his knees lock around Bertolt's shoulders.

"Jesus Christ! Fuck! What are you doing!?" Jean managed to gasp out when Bertolt pulled his lips away to run his tongue in circles around the tip. Was it bad that Jean couldn't decide if he wanted to fling the taller boy away from him or shove his mouth back to where it had been? Just a few licks and he already felt this close to bursting. What the fuck was this guy's mouth?

Bertolt's chuckle sent a tingling sensation of warmth into the growing fire in Jean's stomach. "Well…I'm giving you a blow job. Is it bad?" The smirk on Bertolt's face said he knew exactly what sort of knots he twisted Jean into though. And he _enjoyed_ it. He looked like he could play this game for hours and hours if it reduced Jean to a gasping, shivering mess. Suppressing another shudder, he broke their gazes, eyes squeezed closed so tight that red fireworks burst beneath his eyelids.

"It's g-good. Feels really good, Bert! Please touch me more…"

"Hmm, I'm glad. Of course I'll touch you more," Bertolt hummed back, sending another bout of shivers up Jean's body. The guy was all leg and lean muscles that looked so beautiful when they quivered. Was it bad that he was getting a little obsessed with watching the other boy react to his hands, trusting him like an older, experienced lover despite the fact that their actual ages were close? When so many things felt out of his control, in this and this alone, Bertolt took the lead.

And Jean, he really did look beautiful. Bertolt pressed a kiss to one quivering thigh, using his fingers to trace galaxy patterns into the jut of his hips. For one second, they met eyes again before their charged bubble popped and Jean's legs fell open so Bertolt could suck his cock into his mouth once again. This time, he wasted no time in taking the other boy deep with no more intention of playing games. His hands also moved down from Jean's hips to his balls, then danced further down. Surprisingly, even when he brushed fingers over the other boy's entrance, he didn't flinch. Maybe he was just too lost, didn't notice the way Bertolt's fingers traced circles and just _felt_ instead.

Pulling back, Bertolt pressed a few comforting kisses to Jean's thigh when he whined at the lack of contact. He didn't plan to stay away long though. Finding the small bottle in his pants pocket, he popped it open, watching Jean's face for any sign that he might have doubts. The boy just shivered though, his eyes rolled up toward the ceiling even as his hands twisted in the sheets again, looking very much like they wanted to grab hold of something more solid. Bertolt pressed a kiss to his stomach.

"So beautiful. Stay just like that, okay?" he murmured, so quiet he wondered if he said the words for himself, not for Jean. He continued to offer small words as he spread the lube over his fingers, warming it with a strange fascination. Even if the bottle was a high-end luxury good, he needed it with Reiner, so he'd come to appreciate the strange, gooey texture. It felt so different from the oil or spit that other couples used. He wanted to treat Jean to it too.

After tracing his finger along the other boy's rim, Bertolt pressed a finger inside. "Oh!" Jean's hands finally flew up to grasp Bertolt's arm where he braced himself by Jean's hip. "Don't s-stop. It's good, Bert! I can…I can take more!" No, it wasn't just that he could. Jean wanted more. He wanted it so badly, but he didn't know how to say that, afraid of how desperate and needy his voice would sound. It already turned high and stuttery and so unlike him. He could only squeeze Bertolt's arm, trying to make some kind of reassuring gesture to ease the other boy's mind. This was good, but Bertolt tried too hard sometimes.

Thankfully, Bertolt didn't question his demands this time. He pressed his finger fully inside, crooking it enough to send a tingle racing up Jean's spine. Another gasp ripped itself from his throat, stars dancing like in all the cliched porns he ever borrowed from Franz. Sure it was just lights firing beneath his eyelids because he squeezed them shut too tight—the reasoning existed in the back of his mind—but he liked stars better. Yeah, this felt exactly like shooting stars because Bertolt started to move his finger, sending those tingles up and down his body just like a racing comet.

"I thought you would be tighter," Bertolt murmured, eyes transfixed on Jean's face that looked so open compared to his usual scowl. The pleasure shone clearly as well as that awed look that said he had no idea that someone could make galaxies race inside his body. "You look like you're enjoying this a lot. Maybe you've fingered yourself before?"

He received a grunt in response, still colored heavily with pleasure. "M-maybe." Jean's eyes darted away one second, then locked back onto Bertolt's face as if equally entranced by what he saw there. Then again, Bertolt had no idea what kind of face he made right now. "Is…it always like this with Reiner?"

A look passed over Bertolt's face, too fleeting for Jean to read. When he smiled though, he did it with the softest look imaginable. "Y-yeah. Because he's a good lover and I really like him." Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Jean's lips, swallowing up any protest or noise he might want to make. And hell if he knew what kind of words he should say to that, so he just kissed back, lost in the feel of Bertolt's tongue. Jean wasn't even sure why it felt so much different right now. This part at least, wasn't a vast difference from what he'd done to himself or with Michael. So why did he find himself pushing back against the other boy's finger in order to get even more friction, more starlight inside of his body? Was it the lube or the way the other boy moved his fingers, or was it the pure fact that it was Bertolt touching him?

"I…" Jean reached up to run both hands along the length of Bertolt's arms to his shoulders, smoothing his fingers over the skin there with an almost reverent touch. However, he couldn't quite bring himself to say the words he really wanted to. Those buried themselves inside his heart, full of still budding emotions. Instead, he pressed a kiss to Bertolt's shoulder and encouraged him further. "I want you to hurry and fuck me. Please. I don't want to come by myself…" He needed to turn his eyes away for the last admission, feeling somehow pathetic, even as a flush raced across his entire body. Because that was it, really. He felt like coming after just one finger inside him. What would it feel like when Bertolt pushed in his cock? _God,_ he wanted to know.

Bertolt grunted back, low and cut off. Did Jean know just what kind of words he said? What kind of reactions he incited in another man? Bertolt loathed the times he considered Jean plain and the very fact he never considered what sexiness might hide under his clothes. Because this? This was sin. "O-okay, Jean. Just hold on for a little bit more. I need to finish stretching you first. I'm pretty big, you know." Not like Reiner, perhaps, but that guy's cock made everyone look puny. However, just glancing down at the straining bulge in his pants, he wondered how he could fit it inside anyone's ass. The voice in the back of his mind reminded him that even Reiner managed such a feat. Bertolt just needed to keep himself in check.

Pulling out his finger, he squeezed on more lube so he could press two fingers inside this time. Jean took them with no more than a little gasp, almost immediately shifting to take them in just a little deeper. _Good boy_. Bertolt twisted his fingers, pulling them wide, then pushing them in deep again just so he could watch Jean's face light up. Whenever he brushed against the other boy's prostate, tiny cries burst out. The one time he pressed fingers directly on that spot, Jean tensed so bad that Bertolt thought he would come after all and they needed to take a collective break to compose themselves again. It had been beautiful though, such a beautiful sight to behold.

Finally, Bertolt pulled his fingers out again. He fumbled with his belt buckles and managed to get them undone only on the third attempt. He didn't think he could wait any longer though, infected by whatever impatience seemed to course through Jean's veins. Besides, he didn't think he could make Jean any looser without them both coming. That couldn't happen though, not when he so badly wanted to show the other boy an even higher heaven first. Bertolt pushed his pants aside and grabbed the lube again all without Jean moving from his laid out position. Just a little more lube for his cock and then he was lining up again.

"I'm going in."

Jean squeezed his eyes shut. No matter how much he anticipated Bertolt's cock inside of him, nothing could prepare him for the actuality of it. Both excruciating and delicious, he felt every bit of it slide inside. Bertolt must have held himself back so hard to create such a slow, steady, motion, but it only made Jean twist harder against the stiff sheet. He grabbed fistfuls of it, nearly yanking it entirely from the makeshift bed. "Shit! Bertolt!"

"I-I'm almost all the way in!" he gasped back, nearly doubled all the way over the other boy's body. Sweat dripped from his chest and arms, running along his stomach and pooling wherever his skin touched Jean's. By the time he sunk fully into the other boy, he was panting and so on edge that he thought he might come before even a single thrust. He needed to bite his lip to somehow ground himself and force a little restraint. "God!" He dropped down, resting flush against Jean as he caught his breath. "You're so tight! Feel so tight!"

Biting back another groan, Jean wrapped his legs around Bertolt's waist, moving restlessly, even though the dull ache hadn't eased at all. It left his muscles fluttering in an attempt to adjust to the intrusion. He couldn't wait though, so breathless just because of Bertolt's words. "I feel good too. Ah fuck! M-make me feel even better!" He blinked honey eyes up at the other boy, pleading in a way that almost made him feel shy. Like he wasn't spread open and so heated that a small touch would be enough to send him over the edge. And yet, it was with a cautious tone that he asked for even more.

"Shit." Bertolt captured his lips in a deep kiss, forcing his tongue inside with ferocity. Biting and pulling at his lips, Bertolt left him so out of breath that when he pulled out and pushed inside again, Jean couldn't even gasp. No, he could only cling tighter and move with the tortuous pace that Bertolt set. They rocked together, trading more and more saliva as their desperation grew. Every deep thrust left Jean grinding back, every sweet noise got Bertolt thrusting a little faster. He steadied himself again so he could slip one hand down to pump Jean's cock.

"A-are you going to come?"

"Yes!" Jean grasped his wrist, encouraging it to move even faster. God, he was so close. He could feel every nerve in his body pulled tight and ready to snap. Bertolt never failed to hit that place that felt good inside him; he never stilled his lips either, always pressing them somewhere on Jean's body. He could only return the favor in kind, leaving scratches and kisses all across the other boy's shoulders. A wild part of him even hoped that Reiner liked it. Bertolt certainly did because he thrust in deeper, almost folding Jean in half. "Oh… _oh!_ I'm coming. Bert, I'm coming!"

White fluid splashed across Bertolt's hands, spilling down to pool on Jean's stomach. The image broke the last straw in his control. Pushing in deep, Bertolt dropped his head to Jean's shoulder as he spilled his seed inside, murmuring soft praise all the while. Only when the last shudders left his body did he pull out, scooping Jean up and into his arms.

"So…" Bertolt gasped in another breath even as he broke out with a smile. "How was it? Better than with Michael?"

Jean groaned, burying his face deep into Bertolt's chest. "S-shut up. You already know it was!" He shuddered, still feeling the aftershocks even after they pulled apart. It hadn't been like that with Michael at all. After that guy came, he jerked himself off to the leftover feeling in his body. Even though he'd come, it never left electricity behind. He never felt so caught up in another person's pace that he lost his own ability to think. Jean's hand trembled, holding onto Bertolt's so tight. Why couldn't he calm down at all? He'd been so wrong. "Sorry…"

Bertolt snapped his eyes open when Jean sniffled, his face still buried against his chest. "Hey…it's not something to get upset about…"

"I know," Jean snuffled back, trying to end whatever weird emotion rose up in him before it could boil over. "But I just realized how stupid I was before. I didn't even see how hurt I felt, getting disappointed like that. Bertolt, with you I-" He choked on his words, feeling tears clog his throat. What was it about Bertolt? How could he possibly know that this was what Jean needed the most?

Sighing, Bertolt rolled onto his back, pulling Jean onto his chest, both arms curled tightly around. "Geez, now you know why I felt so upset. You know what's out there though. You can look for a partner who will treat you right. When you're with someone you love, it will feel even more amazing. I promise."

Jean found himself nodding along, though he couldn't quite respond. The words kept getting stuck in his throat, half-formed, even as a thought. What did he really want? It was so hard to understand when he felt warm and precious against the long planes of Bertolt's body. When Jean lifted his eyes though, he found the other boy's eyes locked on his, hesitation shimmering in his gaze.

"But…" Bertolt sounded out, still without breaking eye contact. "If you can't find anyone like that, you're welcome with me and Reiner. You're always welcome in our bed."

Jean furrowed his brow as he pieced together Bertolt's meaning. "But you two-? Do you really mean that?"

Bertolt couldn't help but chuckle back. "I'm pretty sure Reiner won't mind. Not when you're that cute in bed! That's something I can definitely promise!" he added, squeezing Jean a little tighter.

"Huh." Jean settled back against Bertolt's chest, musing over his words. It felt strange to butt in on someone else's relationship, but he couldn't help mulling over the invitation. They'd offered it themselves right, a safety blanket where he could land? It made him want to skip trying to find a new lover altogether. Maybe, just maybe, he would take them up. Oh yes, he really just might. Reiner and Bertolt just better be ready for it. Jean had a feeling that he might fall real deep and that would definitely complicate everything. He just hoped it would in the best way possible.

Damn, he knew for sure now. He was _definitely_ going to take up that offer.

**Author's Note:**

> Omg, I'm finally posting this thing. I know this is such a rare ship, but Bertolt just seemed to suit the plot I had in mind so much. They're so sweet, even if there's no way they can hold a future. I suppose if you hold this fic suspended in time, these poor characters can remain innocent comrades. <3
> 
> (But seriously, the dialogue in this reads like a porn script. What the fuck happened??)


End file.
